Strong Enough
by Hermonthis
Summary: C6/Lucas - "I’d be the last to help you understand, are you strong enough to be my man?"


A/N: Title and story inspired by Sheryl Crow's song. Nothing says Cybersix like a warehouse full of angst and love. XD

**Strong Enough**

* * *

It is how she realizes she is human.

"I'm not strong enough", she sobs brokenly as she gasps for air. Her hands reach out to touch– to grasp something tangible, something to stabilize her mind. The cloak is not enough and ice-cold shivers rack her spine. Her fingers spread out painfully, desperately seeking something that is no longer there. Her in delirious state, she imagines someone in a white collared shirt and tan trousers, but all she grasps is open air

She collapses on the floor, pressing her face against the palms of her slender hands; her body heaves with sobs of anger and frustration as she berates herself for failing. All this time, she has fought for every inch of self-preservation in this double life of hers. It may be full of lies, but it was life. It was survival. It had all been about her.

But somewhere along the way, Lucas opened the door of her classroom and love silently crept in, taking a seat in one of her desks, propped her elbows up and quietly watched the scene unfold. It was poetry, how they came together. Awkward, shy, and initially unwanted.

Love knew better. It knew what she needed. So, in an act of grace that Cybersix knew would end up in inevitable despair, she had given love to the cyberkinetic monster in the form of a high school teacher. Lucas had always loved her, the depths of his devotion threw her off balance and for the first time, she was afraid; afraid of falling in love, to devote herself to another human being and to walk into the daylight with the darkness of the alleyways behind her.

If he ever held out a hand to lead her into the sun, then she must have taken it.

She had laughed.

She had _smiled._

With her neck and her shoulders searing with pain, she huddles on the floor of her apartment, clutching her arms and rocking back and forth. It had been her fault, it was all her fault. If only she had taken more precautions, if only she had thought ahead a little more, then maybe he would still be alive.

If only… if only…

If only she could bring him back.

The ceiling fan whirred in the light, oblivious to the woman crying underneath. It wasn't human, and therefore didn't feel. The window with its long, flowing drapes- that didn't feel either. Her apartment was full of things that didn't feel, didn't care whether they were abused or broken or chipped beyond repair. They stayed where they were, immovable, until the day their owners decided to dispose of them.

And Cybersix felt so different from them. She felt alive. She could lie to herself once more; she had done it before and she could do it again. Lucas wasn't dead, he was just missing. He wasn't caught in the fire, he was hiding in the bushes. Anytime now, his hands that once held hers were just behind the door, waiting to turn the knob and let himself in.

She could lie. She could deceive. It was what her life was based upon.

And just like that, he was there. Beautiful, wonderful Lucas, with his untidy mop of dark blonde hair and his ever-smiling face – he was right in front of her, down on one knee, helping her get up.

All the love in the world, it was there. It was right on his face.

"Come on," he urges her, nodding his head in gentle concern, "It's all right." He gives a hand to her, but she doesn't take it. She's afraid again. But that has never stopped him before; he scoots closer to her across the wooden floor, not caring that it will ruin his knees and his pants, and lays his hands on her arms, holding her steady.

How is he able to trust so much? Why does a love like this hurt?

_I wasn't strong enough._

"Don't leave," she cries, her face falling down to the floor and her chest is burning her alive and now she understand what it means for your heart to die. Mastering physical pain is just a matter of mind over matter, but this? This was hell. If only the liquid fire in her veins could consume her already and spare her the torment of losing the one she loved.

Still loves.

And always will love.

And without bothering to close the window or shut off the lights, she crawls onto the bed, bringing her chin to her knees, and cries.


End file.
